Chandler stared at his bedroom ceiling so intently, he was hoping that if he stared hard and long enough, it could somehow give him a sign that would answer all of the million questions swirling around wildly in his mind. But of course, the ceiling provided not ethereal signs and Chandler was left glaring upwards for what felt like ages, clueless.

Finally looking down, he took in the sight of her. Monica's arms draped over his torso and her small frame curled against his as if she fit his body in all the right ways. He had always thought she was stunning but this felt different in an indescribable way; far different than her obvious aesthetic beauty. There was something about the way he'd seen her last night.

He allowed himself to get lost in the memories plaguing his mind. He swore he could still feel the gentle curve of her body as it pressed impossibly close to his and the hot trails her fingertips left behind as she found every inch of his skin. He could hear his name falling from her lips as they trailed along his jaw line and neck. The image of the content look on her face as they settled into a few short hours of much needed sleep seemed to be burned into the back of his eyelids. The thoughts made him shiver as he lay in his bed, still half clothed and tangled up with Monica under his heavy comforter.

Chandler felt strangely at peace and completely unsettled at the same time. Monica's presence was both calming and disruptive and he tried to understand how that could be. He knew the implications of their situation; after all, he had just slept with his best friend's sister, who just so happened to also be another one of his best friends on top of it all. The idea of Ross finding out about this made Chandler's stomach curl into a tighter knot, which he didn't believe was possible.

As if she could sense his discomfort, Monica woke with a few short yawns, a small stretch and a weakly mumbled "good morning". Blue eyes, half open, found Chandler as he sat up next to her with worry no doubt lining his features. In the typical Chandler fashion, he offered her nothing but a look of sheer confusion knowing full well that if he spoke up he was going to say something stupid.

As she sat up to join him, his t-shirt hung off her loosely and the sight provoked a funny feeling in his stomach. Shielding her lower half with the covers, abashed, it seemed like the more she woke up the more she grew to Chandler's current state of being: shock, confusion and a thousand other emotions he couldn't pin down.

"Nothing like tackling a major life crisis before 8:00am, am I right?" The question fell from him without a second thought and, while joking and basically harmless, it provoked a deep blush of embarrassment to ignite Chandler's face with color. If Monica wasn't half naked under it, he'd have buried himself under the comforter and never came out.

Her gentle laughter eased some of his worries but certainly didn't calm him all together. She looked as shaken as him, her bright eyes searching around his room as if she'd never been in there. Hell, she'd been in there more times than he could recall right then, but never, never in this situation.

"We should talk about this," she declared. Her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath and she turned to face Chandler completely.

"Yeah because that'll get us far," he countered. "Conversation is clearly my strong point."

"I'm serious, Chandler." Monica scolded him with a stern look and he returned an apologetic one. "We have to talk about this."

"Sorry," he murmured. "You're right. But-" He paused. "Well, can I at least get a shirt and pants on first?"

"That'll probably make this easier," she replied with a weak smile.

Hopping briskly out of his bed, he became abundantly aware of how exposed he felt in just his boxers. Scurrying to collect and shirt and pair of sweatpants, he hopped back into his clothing that he'd lost somewhere in the night and planted himself across the room from her. He avoided Monica as he realized she too was finding her discarded clothing, although she was still drowning in his white t-shirt.

"That's better," Monica admitted as she draped her robe over her shoulders and tied it securely around her tiny waist. She paused, holding the fabric tightly as she looked to Chandler. It made him nervous. "This doesn't have to be weird, right? I mean, these things happen all the time."

Do they? He wondered. He'd never once slept with a close friend, albeit he hadn't slept with many women in general and his close friends consisted of two dudes and a girl he saw like a sister; and then there was Monica. The truthful answer to her question was that it was already weird and it was impossible to go back. But the short answer seemed to be the one she was fishing for and the one Chandler had to dish out.

"No, it totally doesn't" he replied with a scoff. He shrugged and fought off the urge to burst open with the truth. That he'd really enjoyed last night, and not just for the obvious reasons. Seeing her beside him this morning, you know before the gravity of the situation settled in, he hadn't felt that at peace in a long time. For someone who was always at war with himself, that was kind of a big deal.

"It's just too complicated, you know?" Monica sounded as if she was trying to convince herself more than Chandler but he felt as if that was just his own wishful thinking. "I mean, the gang…it'd be a mess."

She was right but it didn't dissolve the small rush of disappointment that hit him. Why on Earth did he care so much if he ever got to sleep with Monica again? Before yesterday, the thought had barely touched his mind, and now it was all he could think about. He mentally kicked himself for being so weird about the current predicament and knew what his answer needed to be; for both their sakes.

"You're right," Chandler admitted with a weak laugh. She was. Their friends were the best people he knew but they were also notoriously meddlesome and wouldn't hesitate to involve themselves fully if a relationship blossomed within the group. "You have to admit, last night was kind of really awesome."

"I don't have to admit anything," she said through soft laughter and Chandler watched as her cheeks filled with color. "C'mon," she pressed on hurriedly. "Help me find my stuff. I need to get back to my room before Joey wakes up." Chandler wanted to argue that Joey probably wouldn't be up until well after noon but he felt that urging her to stay would only complicate things more than they already were.

Finding Monica's undergarments was surprisingly not weird; even saying goodbye to her as she hurried across the hall quietly wasn't so bad. No, the weird part was the feeling that settled in after Chandler had closed his door and was left alone in his kitchen, just like he had been the night prior, before all of this had happened. It felt so very different.

Knowing sleep was not an option, he idly made himself a cup of coffee and sat himself at the counter, sipping on it as he mulled over the fluttering feeling in his chest that just wouldn't go away. It bothered him to no end. Chandler knew full well what it meant but he couldn't bring himself to truly believe it for a long time. As the time passed and one cup of coffee turned to two and then three, he continued to deny the obvious truth sitting right in front of him. He sat there alone with his thoughts for God knows how long, and fought against everything his heart and mind were telling him because there was no way in hell he was falling for his best friend. He couldn't be.